Absence
by Klioud
Summary: Post-December 24th. Contains Spoilers. For the first time in years, Makoto visits the church in Kanda.
1. December 25th

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Originally, the first chapter of this fic was a one-shot. To everyone who read and enjoyed Rosary, I want to thank you. I can only hope that you'll like this version as much as the other, if not more so. I deleted the original only because it didn't sit well with me to have two works share so much of the same content. Sorry for the inconvenience, and again, thank you to everyone for your feedback on the original!_

* * *

Makoto does not remember her father as having been all that religious.

He used to stand outside on their apartment's balcony and smoke cigarettes long after the sun had set. Used to curse whenever he spilled his coffee or forgot about the eggs he had been boiling on the stove. He used to let his daughters take a single sip of his beer just to watch their faces scrunch up in distaste. Then he would finish the can off himself. Pick up his giggling daughters in each of his arms and tuck them into their beds.

She can remember once finding him sprawled out on their kitchen floor in a drunken stupor. As a child, Makoto had not understood him. What he said made no sense to her: _got away, fucking judge, bullshit! He fucking did it, he killed them!_ Now she knows that someone he arrested must have been acquitted on that day.

Makoto cannot see the appeal in such a response. It does nothing to change the outcome. She supposes that her father knew this too. The next morning, he gently led his daughters by their hands to the church in Kanda. It was not a place they regularly visited. Sae had once asked him why they went there at all.

 _Sometimes it helps,_ he said. _Especially when I think I'm stuck._

Normally, they would arrive at the church halfway through the sermon. The Niijimas always sat in the row furthest back. Makoto would listen as the congregation repeated aloud the words the priest asked them to. Not once did her father join in. He rarely spoke inside those walls. He would just put his hands together. Bow his head. Sometimes he would only sit like that for a few minutes. Other times, he would sit there for almost a half-hour.

He never told his daughters to pray along with him. Never said a word when Sae began to bring her schoolbooks with her to read during the service. Makoto sat between them and would spend her time reading over Sae's elbow. Or absently humming along to the hymns sung by those around them.

She recalls one visit in particular. Her eyes had been bleary from how early they arrived at the church. The sermon had not even begun yet. Thirteen year-old Makoto noticed the dirty looks people gave Sae whenever she would crack open a textbook. So Makoto always left her own schoolbooks inside her bag. Instead, she would mentally review her notes. Would try to prepare questions to ask her teachers at school later that day. Would try to resist reading over Sae's shoulder. At some point or another, she drifted off to sleep. She later woke in her father's arms as he carried her. Embarrassed, Makoto demanded to be put down onto the sidewalk. Makoto vaguely remembers saying something about not being a child anymore. Sae had rolled her eyes at that. Sunlight caught on her father's teeth as he laughed.

 _Alright, alright,_ he had said. Put her down on her feet. Then he said to Sae, _It's always kids who say they aren't kids, isn't it?_

Huffing, Makoto had stomped off ahead of them. Both her sister and father laughed loudly. It would be the last time she heard either of them truly laugh.

Her father was killed the next day.

For the first time in years, Makoto visits the church in Kanda. It does not appear as though anybody else is seated among the pews. Only her memories fill them. She sees her father curled in over his clasped hands in the back row. Sees Sae curled in over her textbook. The space between them is empty. A second later, their spots are empty too.

Her hand closes tighter around the cross pendant that her father used to wear under his dress shirt.

Ren had been taken into custody by the police. Sae had not given her any forewarning that this would happen. Her sister only told her after-the-fact. Their fight late last night had gone in circles. Sae had been right to ask Ren to turn himself in. His testimony would surely lead to a successful conviction. It would be difficult to make anything stick without it. It was the reasonable course of action.

Even still, that did not make it just.

Makoto is the first of their number to know. So it would be her responsibility to tell the others what happened. The thought had kept her up all night.

Something moves. Instinctively, Makoto slides her feet apart and arranges her fists in front of her. Her eyes scan the pews ahead. Catch on a figure seated in the front row.

Hifumi Togo.

Makoto recognizes her right away. She knows her by the houndstooth dress. By the long fall of her dark hair. The curve of her cheek and her small chin. Makoto knows Hifumi by the way her own heart stutters at the sight of her.

They have met many times at the diner in Shibuya to help each other study. Although Hifumi is a year younger than Makoto, she has a mind for history and all its seemingly-unimportant details. Makoto had been the one to ask for assistance from Hifumi in studying the subject for her upcoming exams. In exchange, Makoto helps Hifumi with her science schoolwork.

"Makoto!" Hifumi says. Smiles. The sight causes Makoto's lungs to momentarily stop working.

"Hi," she manages to say. Her feet take her on their own down the centre aisle. Pocketing her father's necklace, Makoto stops beside the pew Hifumi sits in. A shogi board sits on Hifumi's left. It looks like she is in the middle of a match.

"I didn't know that you came here too."

"I don't," Makoto says. "Not usually. It's, been a long time since I was last here."

Both of Hifumi's eyebrows raise slightly.

"I won't keep you then," she says. Lowers her head back over her shogi board. Awkwardly, Makoto just stands there and watches as she moves piece after piece.

Hifumi must think she has come here for a reason. Anyone would assume that. Just as they would rightfully assume that Makoto had a reason to take her father's necklace from where it lay beside his portrait. None of this had been an accident: Makoto had _chosen_ to do these things.

Only, Makoto is not sure herself what her reasons might be.

"May I?" Makoto asks. Gestures at the open seat on the opposing side of the shogi board. Looking up at her, Hifumi gives Makoto a little nod. Then she returns to her one-player game.

Makoto sits. Watches Hifumi's slender fingers pick up and set down pawns and knights. Lances and generals. A lock of her hair escapes from behind her ear. In one fluid motion, Hifumi picks a knight up and sweeps the hair back into place before setting the piece down. Makoto does not understand how this could possibly make her throat feel dry. Yet it does.

When Hifumi suddenly looks up at her, Makoto averts her gaze.

"So, um... did you want to play?"

They have played against each other in the past. Playing shogi brings out a side of Hifumi that makes Makoto's heart skip erratically. Now is not the time for giddiness.

"Why not?" Makoto says anyway.

Hifumi resets the board. The sound of pieces clacking against the board's surface echoes in the emptiness of the church. Makoto tilts her head upwards as if to follow the echo with her eyes.

"It's nice here, isn't it?" At the sound of her voice, Makoto looks back at Hifumi. "It's why I come here to practice."

"Because it's quiet?" Makoto asks.

"Well, yes," Hifumi says. It sounds like there is more to it than that. Makoto is about to ask her to elaborate when Hifumi points with a flat palm at the board. "You move first."

So she does.

As Hifumi picks up a piece, she says, "With this, the war has truly begun. There are no means of turning back now. Not for fools! Not for queens!"

There is such steel in her voice. Makoto's heart beats double time. Pounds in her ears and fingers. In her knees and in her throat. It is not just giddiness. _There are no means of turning back now._

Makoto remembers right then that Hifumi and Ren are friends. In fact, it had been through Ren that Makoto had first met her. Ren and Hifumi had been close enough that he had asked the Phantom Thieves to help him change the heart of Hifumi's mother.

"Poor choice," Hifumi says as Makoto sets down a pawn. The words make her stomach lurch.

 _Not for fools,_ Makoto hears inside her heartbeat. _Not for queens._

"Hifumi," she says then. The early morning light washes out the colour in Hifumi's eyes. But her smile is so sharp. So predatory. Hifumi is somewhere else right now. For a single second, Makoto considers leaving her wherever she is.

"Yes?"

"Ren," she says. Hesitates. As the moment stretches, the smile begins to dissipate from Hifumi's lips. Regret burns the words in Makoto's mouth to ash. Burns a hole in the pocket of her coat.

"What is it?" Hifumi asks with wide eyes.

"He's been taken into custody by the police," Makoto says. Somehow, Hifumi's eyes grow even wider.

"I— pardon?" Hifumi says. "The police? But why?"

It takes Makoto a moment to decide what exactly to tell her. She had insisted that the Phantom Thieves keep each other apprised of who might know or suspect their secret. Hifumi had been on that short list.

"He chose to," she says. It feels like a lie. It was hardly a choice. "He's providing the police with crucial information, but... he'll be implicating himself when he does."

"Is there anything we can do?" Hifumi asks. Leans forward so suddenly in her seat that the hair behind her ear comes loose again.

Makoto should shake her head. Instead, she just turns her eyes away. Lets the faintest breathe pass through her lips.

Seconds feel like minutes. The only sound is the bench creaking under them as Hifumi rests against the back of it.

"Did you come here, to tell me?" Hifumi says quietly. Without looking her way, Makoto gives Hifumi the tiniest shake of her head. "Then, did you come here... to pray?"

"I..." Makoto looks ahead at the chancel. Ahead at the array of paintings set up behind the altar and the stained-glass windows above them. The sunlight that comes in through the window is weak. But it still catches on her eyes. Blinking hard, her father's teeth glint in the quarter-second her eyes close. She feels like such a kid. Feels— "Alone. I feel alone."

It is with certainty that Makoto knows she did not come here to pray. It has been hard enough for her to learn to trust other people. She does not believe she has it in her to entrust her wishes to anything divine. Especially when she thinks about how unfavourable her encounters with so-called divinity have been so far.

Hifumi had praised this place for its quietness. Makoto thinks she can understand that sentiment. Thinks that perhaps she came here for the silence. No services would be in session at this early hour. The church should have been empty.

Save for her memories.

Or maybe she was following some kind of psychological script. What happened before might happen again. Perhaps visiting the church was the first step in saying _goodbye._ Unconsciously, she slides her hand over the fabric of her pocket.

Alone was one word for how she feels. Forgotten was another. Even after everything they all had done, the world has still given up on them.

"May I?" Hifumi's voice is barely more than a whisper.

She does not know what Hifumi is asking. Looking at her, Makoto finds Hifumi's empty hand hovering over the shogi board. No answer comes to mind. But she nods anyways.

Hifumi takes Makoto's closest hand into her own. Their eyes meet.

"I'm sorry," she says. There is something different about the way Hifumi looks at her right now. Something about the wideness of her eyes that gives Makoto the impression that what Hifumi is looking at is new.

"Me too," she says quietly. Closes her fingers around Hifumi's own.

Minutes pass as they hold hands. The doors to the church open behind them. People and their hushed voices enter. It is Christmas Day, Makoto remembers. It is possible that the church will be holding some kind of service. Time is passing too quickly. Soon she will have to face the others. It would be best if she were at Le Blanc before they arrive.

But that would require Makoto to let go of Hifumi's hand. Her heart thumps in place. She never wants to let go.

 _There are no means of turning back now. Not for fools,_ she has to remind herself. _Not for queens._

"I'm sorry." Makoto stands up. Reluctantly, she tries to pull her hand up and away with her.

Hifumi does not let go.

Her heartbeat sounds like someone has swiped their hand down the keys of a piano. The sunlight has shifted just enough that the green in Hifumi's eyes show. For a moment, Makoto believes that Hifumi feels alone too. She can see it in the set of her eyebrows. In the shape of her mouth. The pressure of her fingers around Makoto's own.

Then Hifumi lets go.

Once again, Makoto just awkwardly stands there. The church might as well be deserted for all that she hears the people milling about them.

"Can I come here again?" Makoto asks Hifumi. "To see you?"

Hifumi looks a little surprised. Then her mouth eases into a small smile.

"Yes," she says. "Please do."


	2. January 2nd

The new year is two days old. Nothing about it feels new.

Makoto stands outside on her apartment's balcony overlooking a pedestrian-packed street. Her arms rest against the railing. The sunset is obscured by skyscrapers and thin stratus clouds. What little light bleeds through serves only to enrich the shadows in things. The windows of the skyscraper across from her are a monochromatic shade of eggplant. Overhead, the sheet of clouds are as bruised as she feels.

The former Phantom Thieves had met on New Year's Eve and exchanged words that needed to be said aloud and not read. Makoto can just recall how her heart thumped louder than all the cheers coming from below the enclosed walkway. It was reminiscent of the way her heart used to sound inside the Metaverse. It commanded her: _don't forget_.

Now she stares at the bedim skies and feels her memories dimming with them. Her father's cross clinks against the railing. Under her arms, the metal tolls.

Ever since her visit to the church on Christmas Day, Makoto has kept her father's necklace on her person. She carried it in the pocket of her coat for two days before finally putting it around her neck. Now she does not part from it.

Once, Sae had caught her with the necklace. Makoto had been lying on her bed and holding the pendant up to the pot light overhead. The light split itself around it. Simultaneously, Sae had knocked on and opened up the door to Makoto's bedroom. Makoto remembers how wide Sae's eyes had been for a split second. How the apology from her for forgetting her manners had felt like an apology for something else.

Makoto tries not to think of what that _something else_ is.

Raising an arm, Makoto holds the cross up to what little is left of the sunlight. Almost nothing highlights its edges. The face of the cross is as dark as the skyscrapers' windows. For half a second, it feels like she is looking into a mirror.

It is suddenly too cold to be out here on the balcony. Makoto retreats indoors. Takes off her winter coat and slips back on the necklace.

Dinner does not appeal to her stomach. But it does to reason. She pays more attention to her phone than she does to the leftovers she re-heats. A few of the other former Phantom Thieves are present in the group chat.

 _hey think I might have a lead._ A message from Ann. _I'll let you know tomorrow_

 _Alright._ Makoto replies. _Anything I can do to help?_

 _no, Ive got this_

Her phone buzzes as the others check in. While she eats, Makoto scrolls up through the group chat. Reads their messages in reverse. Their various texts bring to mind their determined faces from just two days ago. Now she wonders if they might look as she does now. The thought makes her skin that the pendant rests against itch.

She should share her worries. There is no question that she can rely on them all: their wills had blended together into one force and overthrown the power of an alleged god. By comparison, what she feels now should be inconsequential. The former Phantom Thieves would be able to handle it together.

Makoto exits the group chat. Sets down her phone beside her plate.

Sharing her doubts with them would be too dangerous. They need nothing other than unyielding determination from her. Just as she needs it from them.

The phone buzzes then. Her thumb hesitates to turn the screen back on.

 _Are you still free tonight?_

Hifumi. The bit of food in her mouth unexpectedly hits the back of it. Swallowing hard, Makoto frowns at the message. Considers asking to postpone their match. She and Hifumi had met four days ago in Shibuya for Makoto to proofread Hifumi's latest paper. At that time, they made plans to play shogi at the church. Her mood had not been quite so dark then. It might be best for everyone if she stayed in for the evening.

Or perhaps spending time with Hifumi will improve her mood.

 _Yes. At the church?_

 _Excellent, see you then._

* * *

Makoto watches the other passengers on the subway. Her ears pick out stray sentences and hissed complaints. Pick out laughter-choked insults shared between three tipsy-looking office workers. A portion of the lifeless apology someone is giving over the phone to a friend. Her ears pick out a father shushing the high-pitched whine of his young son.

The chances are slim to none that any of them remember what happened on Christmas Eve. None of them know how her every bone had ached under the pressure of their compliance. There is a hole in their memories that they have easily filled in. On one level, Makoto understands that collapsing Mementos wiped all memory of the battle from their minds. Yet a part of her feels that this explanation is incomplete. These people possess something she does not. She cannot even begin to guess what that _something_ might be. Her fingers pinch the cross through the fabric of her shirt. It is suddenly a little difficult to breathe.

By filling in the absence of a memory, it feels like she has been buried alive.

* * *

Hifumi sits where she always does: in the front row. Although no service is being performed, there are a fair number of people inside the church. They sit in small clusters among the pews.

She greets Makoto with a gentle smile. The sight of that alone eases the knot between Makoto's eyebrows.

"It's good to see you," Hifumi says. Somehow, it does not sound like just a platitude.

"You as well," Makoto says as she removes her coat and sits down opposite to Hifumi on the pew. Then she takes her time folding her coat up. Her heart has already started to beat that bit quicker.

Placing her coat behind her, Makoto turns and tries not to watch too closely as Hifumi resets the shogi board. Hifumi's hair helps. Locks of it hang as a curtain in front of Hifumi's face as her delicate fingers rearrange the pieces on the board.

"Oh, before we begin..." Hifumi looks up from the board. Swipes her hair away with an empty hand from her face. "I wanted to thank you." For some reason, Makoto feels herself flinch at that. "My teacher was very impressed with my assignment."

Makoto has received enough compliments of this kind to know how to respond to them. Yet she struggles to find her voice now. A few too many seconds pass.

"I'm glad to hear that," she manages to say.

Hifumi notices the delay. At least, Makoto fears she does. She is suddenly very aware of the feeling of her coat against her backside. It is too close to her.

Bowing her head, Hifumi finishes setting up the board.

"When you're ready to begin, there's something I'd like to try," Hifumi says. "This time, could you move first?"

Makoto nods. Then moves first.

Hifumi disappears. This thought crosses Makoto's mind as Hifumi's mouth twists up in glee. How inaccurate. Hifumi has not vanished: she has unveiled herself. Makoto moves her units with only half a mind present. The other half of her is consumed with a daydream. She wonders what Hifumi would have been like inside of that place where toys could become weapons. Where imitation could become reality.

"Dark Inferno Rook!" Hifumi captures one of Makoto's pieces. Makoto can almost hear the hiss of a Shadow dissipating as she removes the piece from play. Something radiates as a shock wave from inside her. It almost sounds like words.

Makoto moves again. As she leans away from the board, Makoto notices Hifumi squinting at her. Her smile has turned into something gnarled.

 _Snap!_

"Golden Dawn Burst!" Regret hits Makoto as she watches Hifumi cut down a silver general. "I must say," she says. "You'll never get anywhere so long as you hold back."

That almost sounds accusatory. Makoto opens her mouth to ask what she means only to find that her voice is gone again. It feels like her windpipe is being stretched apart. Her face greatly heats up.

She wants to ask if Hifumi means what Makoto wishes she does.

The game pulls Makoto in. The only sound is that of wood clacking against wood. Of her heartbeat against her innards. She thinks she recognizes the words her heart speaks: _don't forget_.

 _Don't forget this feeling._

Hifumi's expression changes as Makoto pushes harder on the offensive. Between each turn, Makoto finds her eyes drawn to Hifumi's lips. There is a knot in the corner of her mouth. It looks like a riddle. Makoto wants nothing more than to solve it. Ever since she was young, she had been good at both. Sae used to tease her with riddles until Makoto spoiled the fun by solving them. Her father used to surrender tangled cords and ribbon to a child eager to prove her talent to everyone else.

The next piece she picks up feels so solid between her fingertips. It feels far more real than any of the others she held before. As Makoto snaps it to the board, her voice resurges.

"Fists of Justice!"

The knot unravels. Something in Makoto unravels too as Hifumi's jaw drops and her eyebrows raise. She yearns to cradle Hifumi's jaw against her palm. Yearns to run her fingertips along her cheeks. Press her lips to the now-untied side of her mouth. There is an answer waiting for her there. She can just feel it.

The moment passes. Hifumi drops her gaze and surveys the board. The general din of the church reaches Makoto's ears. Nothing has changed. She is no closer to touching Hifumi's lips than she is to freeing Ren. The edges of the cross press uncomfortably against her skin.

The remainder of their match passes without retaining Makoto's full attention. Most of Makoto is too busy wishing she had stayed home to pay the game much mind. Hifumi says something as she makes the winning move. Something about her being a _formidable opponent._

Makoto looks down without seeing the board. Uses it as an excuse to not look up. Not yet. Five seconds will be all she needs to compose herself.

"That was impressive," Hifumi says on the fourth second. "And that name! 'Fists of Justice'"— Makoto counts a seventh second — "where did you get it from?"

"'Golden Burst Dawn'... was that your new move?"

Makoto looks up at her. It is not nearly as hard to do as she thought it would be.

"Oh, yes! Yes. It was rather bold, wasn't it? It's my hope that it'll surprise even seasoned players."

"Well, I can certainly say I was surprised." She does not mention that it had not been the move that surprised her. It is worth leaving that out when Hifumi smiles. "Play again?"

The next minute passes in silence as Hifumi resets the board. Makoto takes the opportunity to push her coat a little further away from herself.

"Actually, I wanted to let you know... I'm arranging for an interview," Hifumi says without looking up. "I may just be a 'Phony Princess'"— Makoto frowns —"but news outlets are still interested in talking to me despite it. Or, maybe, because of that..."

"You're not a phony." There is a bit more bite to her tone than Makoto intended. Hifumi's head snaps up to look at her with a weak smile.

"Oh, but no, no, it's true. It doesn't bother me."

Makoto has half a mind to argue.

"The interview," she says instead, "what's it for?"

"I thought that it would help Ren—" Makoto is not sure what happens first. She can feel her own expression shatter just as Hifumi's eyes go wide. For a few seconds, her lips move without a single sound leaving them. Then— "I apologize, I should have known better than..."

Voices hum from somewhere far away. Stunned, Makoto searches for her own voice. Finds it. She is just about to say _it's alright_ when Hifumi says in a tiny voice, "I wanted to help."

It sounds like an echo: her own desire repeated back to her. Makoto drops her eyes to the base of the confessional that sits just a short distance away. Hifumi shifts in her seat beside her. Makoto hears her take a shallow breath. "I-I forgot myself. I shouldn't—"

Makoto shakes her head once. It feels like Christmas Day all over again. Feels like the New Year has not even begun. It feels like time is moving in reverse: taking them further and further away from the future.

Makoto tells herself that she is overreacting. Even still, she is afraid to look at Hifumi. Her face might be as dark as her father's necklace had been against the sunset.

Seconds feel like minutes. Then Hifumi starts to get up from her seat. Makoto's trachea feels like it is being pulled taunt again. Only, in a worse way.

"My father," Makoto's voice is surprisingly level. Hifumi goes still. "'Fists of Justice', I... made it up with him. I was really young at the time, so it might sound kinda— ah! You know, I still like it." Feeling a little more confident, Makoto dares to look at Hifumi. Finds her seated again. One of her hands is clasped over the knuckles of her other. "How about you?"

"Me?"

"Your moves. Where do you get the names from?"

Hifumi does not meet her eyes.

"A lot of places. Poetry, sometimes." A bit of a smile returns to her lips. Makoto finds she can copy that. "It'd be fair to say that I make up most of them myself though." She rests her hands with palms down on her thighs. Her eyes briefly look in Makoto's direction. "Actually, my father coined a few. I usually end up having to tweak his suggestions, but, he has excellent taste overall. He... hasn't suggested anything recently, though."

That hint of a smile fades. Makoto feels its absence. She does not know how to fill it in.

"It's getting late," Hifumi says. That is a lie. It has not been that long since the sun had set. "I should be heading home... I have a practice match tomorrow. It's a big opportunity." There is a knot in Makoto's stomach. "Thank you for the match."

As Hifumi stands up, something arctic blows through Makoto. The confessional does not just frame Hifumi's form: it splits itself around her. Makoto suddenly leans forward in her seat. Feels the cross swing forward too before its momentum reverses. Strikes her chest. Her being tolls.

"I want to help him too. So badly it hurts."

Their stares meet. It takes a few seconds before Makoto's eyes blink of their own accord. All of a sudden, there are tears in her eyes. Makoto blinks them back. Feels that knot in her stomach grow tighter.

She had decided against giving voice to her doubts. Or so she thought. Makoto stands in a hole that cannot be filled. Not by herself.

Those few seconds of holding hands on Christmas Day had opened her eyes to Hifumi's loneliness. Opened her eyes to her own. Everything inside of her is desperate to reach out and let their feelings meet.

Ren had once called Hifumi a _confidant_. Makoto does not believe she has ever so fully understood the word.

Hifumi's eyes glisten as she lightly works her jaw. One hand finds her other arm. If there are still people inside of this church, Makoto cannot hear them.

"He saved me," Hifumi says. "He— all of you. I just want to— to reciprocate. To return the favour."

She pauses. It seems to Makoto to be an almost customary pause: something she should fill with a _don't worry, we will_ or a _we'll rescue him no matter what_. Perhaps she would if it were anybody else.

The pause passes.

"I'm scared I can't," Hifumi says. A tear rolls down Makoto's cheek as she raises a hand to Hifumi. Stepping closer, Hifumi takes it without a word. Makoto stands up. Neither of them let go.

"I feel the same way," Makoto says. "I... it's difficult. It's so"— she digs into the bottom of her lungs for air— " _difficult_. I wish it wasn't, I wish I could just..."

Inhaling, Makoto can feel her lungs refuse the oxygen. Air dams in her chest instead. She is torn between wanting to sob and stopping herself outright. Suddenly, she has a name for the knot in her stomach: guilt. This all feels too self-indulgent.

Hifumi squeezes her hand. Makoto goes still. A tear drops from one of Hifumi's eyes and lands in a crevasse formed by their entwined fingers. Then a tear threatens to fall from her other eye. It hits Hifumi's cheek. Rolls slowly downward. Without thinking, Makoto's free hand catches the tear with her thumb. Her fingertips graze Hifumi's ear as she does.

Makoto's heart stops. Hand drops. The air building disappears. Hifumi's eyes widen. A second passes as though it were an hour.

Then Hifumi _smiles_.

"I didn't—" Makoto starts. Falls silent when Hifumi gently squeezes her hand again.

"No, no, I'm glad you did."

Hifumi slowly raises her free hand to Makoto's cheek. When her fingertips make contact with Makoto's skin, a shock wave radiates from underneath each one. Makoto scarcely breathes as Hifumi's thumb traces a line under her eyelid. Maybe a tear had fallen from her eye too.

Flushing, Hifumi removes her hand from Makoto's cheek. They quickly look away from each other. But Makoto cannot help but steal glances at Hifumi as she tries to catch her breathe. On the fifth glance, their eyes accidentally meet. Hifumi sucks in her lips a little. Makoto goes red in the face too. Looks for something to say. Anything.

"This is okay," Makoto blurts out. Her own voice sounds far-away to her. Hifumi releases her lips. Then nods.

"We're okay."

"But, if you're not okay," Makoto amends for her, "you can tell me. You can call me."

A tear visibly wells up in Hifumi's right eye. Just as one does in Makoto's left.

"Okay," Hifumi says. A smile returns to her trembling lips. "And y-you can call me as well."

She is still inside of a hole. Makoto can feel how enormous it is. Can feel how old it is too. It has existed for almost as long as she has. It might exist as long as she does.

Perhaps there will never be a way to fill it. But the feeling of Hifumi's hand in her own makes her wonder if she even has to.

All of a sudden, Makoto notices the priest standing behind the altar. She remembers very quickly where they are. The backside of Makoto's knee hits the edge of the pew as she lurches backwards. It is only Hifumi's grip on her that keeps her from completing losing her balance.

"I have you," Hifumi says.

Something like a laugh escapes Makoto's lips. It is then that she notices that the knot in her stomach is gone. When exactly that happened, she cannot pinpoint.

Makoto and Hifumi walk back to the subway station together. They talk about their own tenets for naming moves. Talk about the poetry Hifumi has pulled names out of. About the poetry she could find new ones within. Makoto shares the name of an unexpectedly enjoyable compilation of poems that she had been assigned to read for class. Shares all the prototype names she can remember that preceded _Fists of Justice_. The whole way to the station, Makoto feels like her winter coat is a little too hot.

At the first set of turnstiles inside the station, they have to part ways. They decide on a date for their next study session. An idea occurs to Makoto as they do.

"Hey," she says. "Once Ren is out, let's study together. The three of us."

Seemingly surprised, Hifumi blinks sharply.

"That'd be nice. Although..."

Hifumi's smile quivers. For some reason, her face reddens.

"I-I'd like to keep studying with you— ju-just you," Hifumi says. "If you find that—"

"Yes!" Makoto's face is red-hot. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off—"

Hifumi laughs. Before she knows it, Makoto finds herself breathless with laughter too.

* * *

It seems like it will be impossible to sleep. Makoto's stomach churns with butterflies. They feed on her glee and her guilt. Her cheek is still warm from where Hifumi had kissed her goodbye. It is not until she is nearly asleep that Makoto feels the necklace still around her neck. Undoing the clasp, she collects the chain and pendant in her hand. Her night vision has set in. Makoto can just barely see the cross's outline in the darkness.

"I miss you," she says to it. To all who dug out with their absence the hole she is in: to her mother. Her father. Sae. Ren.

No one replies.

Even still, that warm spot on her cheek lulls her to sleep.


End file.
